


Memento Mori

by monimala



Category: Bitten (TV)
Genre: Gap Filler, Gen, M/M, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1361503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the tail-end of <i>Bitten</i> episode 109, "Vengeance." Nick and Jeremy remember Antonio...and things Nick can't forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento Mori

The wine is gone. The scotch, too. And the cherry orchard is so dark that he can only see the barest outline of Jeremy sitting a few feet away. They’ve long since scattered his father’s ashes. Under the biggest tree. Wide trunk, welcoming branches. The one that focuses the whole orchard. It’s not lost on him, even after entirely too much alcohol, that the biggest tree is what Jeremy is to the Pack…the one that focuses their whole orchard. Alpha. Omega. The beginning and the end.

He’s worshipped the man for years. They all do. Jeremy crooks his finger and they all come running. He quirks one of those insanely elegant eyebrows and they all stop in their tracks. But for Nick, it’s always been different. Jeremy’s voice—so deceptively soft, like silk wrapped around steel—gave him his first hard-on. Jeremy’s face was the first one he fell in love with when he realized he liked guys as much as girls. Even now, his father’s best friend is the star of most of his darkest, deepest fantasies—the ones that start with “Sir” and end with being cuffed in the cage. Nick’s wanted to be by his Alpha’s side for as long as he can remember. But not like this. Never like this. With the dust of his pop’s bones still clinging to his skin and the mantle of his job pressing down on Nick’s shoulders. He is not Antonio. He can’t _be_ Antonio.

His breath shudders out of him, and his head drops to his knees. Blood and booze rush through his veins and somehow turn into tears he doesn’t want to shed. _Damn it_.

“What is it, Nicholas?” Not “Nicky.” Not anymore. But it sounds like a fond caress anyway. Like fingers sliding up from his neck, into his hair.

He doesn’t have to say anything. Grass shifts. Leaves bend. And then Jeremy’s close. Warm and safe and _everything_. Nick folds into him, seeking that touch, that comfort like he would if they were shifted. His soft whine is no less animal for coming from a human throat. And neither is the growl of response. “I have you,” Jeremy assures him, in that tone that brooks no argument. “I will always have you.”

It’s exactly what Nick needs to hear. Exactly what he already knows. But only a fraction of what he wants. And so he twists in Jeremy’s arms, uses his weight and his strength to leverage the motion, and kisses him square on the mouth. It’s better than the wine. Jeremy’s closed lips parting in shock. His hands tightening on Nick’s shoulders. His stillness. Something Nick used to admire…that unflappable aura of calm…but has no use for right now. But Jeremy doesn’t move beyond his initial give. No, he just breathes. He just waits. _I will always have you_.

Nick draws his tongue across Jeremy’s lower lip, tasting the hints of smoke and peat and tart red grapes. Of grief, too.

Because that’s what they’re supposed to be doing here, aren’t they? Mourning. Remembering. Honoring Antonio Sorrentino, the best of fathers, the best of men.

He chokes. His teeth knock against Jeremy’s and cut into his tongue. The tang of copper erases the heat, the need, the liquor…everything but the guilt. Because that’s dug too far, too hard, to scrub away.

“Nicholas.” This is what Jeremy was waiting for. His regret. The tears actually spilling over. Nick’s shoulders shaking. And now he moves again, stroking his hands up and down Nick’s back, pressing gentle, forgiving kisses to his cheeks. The rasp of his beard along his jaw is almost Nick’s undoing. “It’s all right,” he whispers as he licks the salt from Nick’s skin. “You’re not alone. As long as you’re one of mine, you will never be alone.”

It’s not “one of us.” Not “one of the Pack.” One of _mine_.

Whether or not Jeremy knows it—and it’s more than likely that he does—he’s just given his permission. His approval. His word.

Nick’s wanted to be by his Alpha’s side for as long as he can remember. Not like this. Never like this. But he’ll take it.

He’ll take it as far as he can.

 

 

 

-end-

March 23, 2014


End file.
